nstance, who buy with the
idea of passing it in some foreign port where seamen's money flows fast."

Larry Woolford shifted in his chair. "So what are you building up to?"

Steve Hackett rubbed the end of his pug nose with a forefinger in quick
irritation. "Like I say, that's standard counterfeit procedure. We're all
set up to meet it, and do a pretty good job. Where we have our
difficulties is with amateurs."

Woolford scowled at him.

Hackett said, "Some guy who makes and passes it himself, for instance.
He's unknown to the stool pigeons, has no criminal record, does up
comparatively small amounts and dribbles his product onto the market over
a period of time. We had one old devil up in New York once who actually
_drew_ one dollar bills. He was a tremendous artist. It took us years to
get him."

Larry Woolford said, "Well, why go into all this? We're hardly dealing
with amateurs now."

Steve looked at him. "That's the trouble. We are."

"Are you batty? Not even your own experts can tell this product from real
money."

"I didn't say it was being _made_ by amateurs. It's being _pushed_ by
amateurs--or maybe amateur is the better word."

"How do you know?"

"For one thing, most professionals won't touch anything bigger than a
twenty. Tens are better, fives better still. When you pass a fifty, the
person you give it to is apt to remember where he got it." Steve Hackett
said slowly, "Particularly if you give one as a tip to the _maitre
d'hotel_ in a first-class restaurant. A _maitre d'_ holds his job on the
strength of his ability to remember faces and names."

[Illustration.]

"What else makes you think your pushers are amateurs?"

"Amateur," Hackett corrected. "Ideally, a pusher is an inconspicuous type.
The kind of person whose face you'd never remember. It's never a teenage
girl who's blowing money."

It was time to stare now, and Larry Woolford obliged. "A teenager!"

"We've had four descriptions of her, one of them excellent. Fredrick, the
_maitre d'_ over at La Calvados, is the one that counts, but the others
jibe. She's bought perfume and gloves at Michel Swiss, the swankiest shop
in town, a dress at Chez Marie--she passed three fifties there--and a hat at
Paulette's over on Monroe Street.

"That's another sign of the amateur, by the way. A competent pusher buys a
small item and gets change from his counterfeit bill. Our girl's been
buying expensive items, obviously